Quality Time
by Lady Dudley
Summary: Sherlock and Molly spend Valentine's Day together (I had planned/hoped to post this earlier but better late than never, eh?)


**A/N: Bit late to the party, but I have been having some internet issues (first world problem, I know) but this is my Sherlolly offering for Valentine's Day. It didn't quite work out how I had planned, but I think it still works and I hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

_**Quality Time**_

Sherlock surreptitiously watched Molly over the top of his microscope.

For her part, Molly was completely oblivious to his scrutiny as she was concentrating on the autopsy that she was conducting, relaying notes to the voice recorder nearby.

Absently Sherlock considered that most people would find it disconcerting that she was up to her elbows in the chest cavity of a cadaver, but Sherlock wasn't most people. Sherlock thought she looked beautiful.

In fact, Sherlock had recently come to the conclusion that Molly Hooper was a very beautiful woman. Perhaps even the most beautiful woman that he'd ever met.

Deceptively beautiful.

Molly was so quiet and unassuming that most people never gave her a second glance, never took the time to appreciate her loveliness.

Sherlock had once been one of those people.

Oh, he'd given her a second glance and had never really brushed her aside; not really. She'd always been there, hovering on the edge of his vision or haunting his Mind Palace. He'd just never taken the time to properly _appreciate_ her.

Then he had and he'd realised why he'd never done so in the past; it had been an instinctual response to danger and now he was a lost man.

Because upon closer inspection Molly Hooper was beautiful. Not only physically but because she radiated a warmth that drew him in like a moth to a flame. He craved her goodness, her kindness, her love – everything.

She made him want to be a better person just by being around and he'd never realised how much of his genius was due to her. Yes, he had been born with natural ability, but she made him want to extend himself, to reach greater heights.

And, if he was perfectly honest, some of his greatest breakthroughs had just been showing off for her benefit.

Hindsight was 20-20 and he could see now that she'd even played a significant role in him kicking his drug habit: he'd wanted to be in control of himself and his faculties, but he'd also wanted to be someone who deserved her.

Not that he would ever have admitted that, even to himself.

In part it explained why he was always so quick to shut her down or brush her aside – he was terrified. Absolutely, unequivocally terrified that if she got to close, if she saw the _real_ Sherlock Holmes, she'd leave.

Ever since he'd turned to her in his darkest hour, his thoughts had been straying in her direction more often than had been his wont and, when he was away, he'd missed her more than he cared to admit.

Sherlock blinked at the sound of metal hitting the floor as he was abruptly brought back to reality. He watched with affectionate amusement as Molly picked up the scissors she'd dropped, mumbling to herself.

He cocked his head to the side as he watched her resume stitching the cadaver back up. Privately, he conceded that this was how he liked her best; when she was just Molly, his competent pathologist.

Not that he minded her other incarnations – the stunningly beautiful Molly in a figure hugging dress sprang to mind – but this was the Molly he fell in love with.

And the day he'd admitted as much to her was one of the happiest of his life.

"You're staring," Molly commented in a teasing tone, still intent on her task.

"I don't stare," Sherlock objected with mock offense, "I observe."

Molly smiled, "Well, can you _observe_ something else? I'm trying to concentrate."

"There is nothing else," he grumbled.

Molly's smile turned into a grin, "What about those slides you're supposed to be looking at?"

"Boring," Sherlock replied, switching off the microscope, "I solved the case hours ago."

Molly glanced up at him, "Then why are you here?"

"It's Valentine's Day," he said simply with a shrug, "and you had to work, do I need another reason?"

Molly blinked and looked up at him, "What?"

"That's what couples do isn't it, spend Valentine's Day together?" he continued, confused by her confusion, "Not that the day makes any difference," he added.

His confusion turned into concern as Molly continued to gape at him, "Did I do something wrong?"

Molly shook herself, "No, I…it's just…" she took a calming breath, "that's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, thank you," she said sincerely.

Sherlock looked a little embarrassed, "John intimated that it was an important occasion," he explained, "I didn't want to disappoint you."

Molly beamed at him, "Sometimes I know why I love you."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow as her teasing tone carried away some of his embarrassment, "Only sometimes?"

Molly giggled and turned back to the cadaver, Sherlock narrowed his eyes in mock annoyance.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he said drily, trying to hide his amusement.

She smiled up at him, "Happy Valentine's Day."


End file.
